


Whisper Something Sorrowful

by ughineedcoffee



Series: The Runt of the Litter [28]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Sad, Temporary Character Death, Winchester Sister, little sister - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29593059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ughineedcoffee/pseuds/ughineedcoffee
Summary: She'd always expected death to hurt. But Anna went quiet. She went cold. She went numb.
Series: The Runt of the Litter [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112966
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	Whisper Something Sorrowful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aisha.yousafff](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=aisha.yousafff).



> Hi, guys!  
> I know I said the next things I posted would be the two sequels to Glass Lives on Sunday and Tuesday/Wednesday, and I am still planning to post those stories on those days. However, I finished writing a request for aisha.yousafff here on AO3 for this week's update on Wattpad and posted it this morning. It felt wrong to post an AO3 request on Wattpad and make the AO3 user who requested it wait a week. So, here you go <3  
> Anna is eighteen. (and this is sad)

It was cold. Outside. Inside. Cold. Cold like her fingertips when she got nervous going on her first date. Cold like the lake outside Lebanon when she'd jumped into it last November, trying so hard to be a real, warm-blooded kid. Cold like feel-better ice cream sprinkled through the summers of her early childhood. Cold like her mother's hand under hers when Abaddon put a cold knife through a warm heart that was beating, beating, beating- still.

It was still. The world was still. Still like her mother's heart. Still like her father's corpse. Still like a photograph of a moment you can't get back. Still like the past and the future and everything but right now. But right now... was still... breathless, beatless, unrhythmic... cold.

Cold like her mother's hand. Cold like her mother's heart. Cold like death. Cold like dying.

But she couldn't be dying. Not at eighteen. For so long, she'd believed she would die by twenty-one. But she'd graduated high school, and she'd felt the hesitation every time Dean or Sam put a gun in her hands. She'd seen the fire in their eyes when something evil dared glance her way. She'd done so much good in the last year. She'd breathed smoke and charred skin saving children. She'd spoken words from the heart that turned guns to the ground. She'd grown into her skin, packed punches to fell men twice her size, and tossed a book of matches just in time. She'd done good... and just maybe she'd started to feel invincible.

So just maybe it had been inevitable that she crash, burn, freeze... die. Die young.

She didn't know. She couldn't know. But she did know that it was cold, that she couldn't breathe, that everything about this still, frigid moment was wrong, wrong in a way that meant there was no coming back. It awoke a fear in her, fear that forced a strangled breath into her lungs, fear that made her want to cry like a child and get that adult response she always used to when she was still a little girl, still jumping in puddles after rainstorms, not yet gone still with the force of all the world's pressures.

It made her want Dean. It made her want Sam. It made her want someone to grab her hand tight in theirs and promise her that this moment wasn't what it felt like. That it was cold like ice cream, not like the limbs or the organs of the dead.

But she knew better. Because she wasn't that little girl. Because she was old in her brain, however young she might be in her eyes.

She was old, and she was young, and there was nobody. And she couldn't remember why. She couldn't remember where the boys had gone. She couldn't remember where she was, let alone why. She couldn't remember. She didn't know. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't see. She could only think, and thinking would get her nowhere so long as her body was so numb and her brain was so cold.

Her family would miss her.

Anna opened her eyes, bloodshot and glazed over. The world looked awfully strange. Devoid of color, she realized after a moment. It wasn't often she saw such a complicated planet in such simple shades of black and white. It was for that very reason that she so loved the night sky, deeply black and freckled with light, spread wide above her now. It was good, this simplicity. It was all her eyes could handle.

But it made her brain itch somewhere out of reach. It made her remember, which made her speak, though her words sounded more like a whine.

"Sa-" she coughed around the final consonant of his name, felt something inside of her shake with the effort. "Dean." Her body refused to move no matter how hard she tried, her hands, her legs, her neck, everything still. Her lips, though, moved soundlessly around the two names she still believed could save her. As she lay cold and still under the stars, the words on her lips lost their meaning, but her mouth continued to move around them. They were all she had. Her brain grew colder, stuttered, stopped, stilled.

Her eyes fought the strain of staying open. On the edges of the world, she began to recognize sounds. Voices. But they were indistinct, and even when she forced every ounce of waking energy she had left to focus entirely on the sounds, she couldn't seem to place them as anything more than _voices._

But they got closer, and they began to sound warm. She stretched toward them in mind and spirit, but her body refused to budge. She'd felt this way once. When she was put under a spell. But she'd burned with fever and seared with pain then. Now she felt cold. Now she felt numb.

"-naaaa!" a voice hollered. It sounded desperate, but it still sounded warm. Warm like home. Warm like curling up between two warm bodies on the couch in the bunker with a bowl of popcorn in her lap. Warm like Madeleine's lips on hers and their fingers intertwined, palms sweating against one another, walking through Lebanon in July. Warm. And she was so cold.

"Anna!"

It was so close now. Maybe she'd succeeded in reaching out. She could practically feel the warmth. It was so close. Close like Maddie's eyelashes blowing cool air against Anna's cheeks with every blink that first time they almost touched each other. Close like the toes of Kate's shoes and Anna's as they sat on opposite ends of the couch in her basement, watching bad movies just to make fun of all the characters. Close like romance. Close like friendship. Close like comfort.

"Anna." It wasn't close anymore. It was _there_. Above her, near enough to touch. And the voice wasn't just a sound anymore. It was a breathless, terrified whisper. And it was Cas.

"Anna," he repeated. His voice lowered with his body, getting closer still.

_Help me,_ she wanted to say. _Hold my hand. Make me warm like my name_.

Her lips moved around a word. _Castiel_. But there was no sound. She couldn't speak his name. She was too cold to create anything warm, and her voice to him in that moment would probably have sounded warm like hope. Warm like relief.

"Anna, open your eyes," he commanded.

She tried. But her body wasn't hers. It belonged to the air now. It fit there. Cold. Still. Distant. But close.

"Open. Your eyes," Cas said again, his voice hard. The sound was a little different, a little farther away when he yelled, "Dean! Sam! She's here."

_I'm here_ , Anna thought. But was she?

Fear gripped her, and her right hand shot up as her eyes shot open. Her fingers twisted tightly into the lapels of Cas' trenchcoat. Her eyes screamed everything she couldn't say. _Am I here? Am I here, Cas? Can you keep me here?_

Cas' eyes said he was confused, startled even. But Anna knew only her own fear, and it ran deep. Deep like the cold in her limbs and organs. Maybe the cold was the fear. Or the fear was the cold.

"It's alright," Cas said carefully, frowning like always.

_This isn't like always_ , Anna shouted in her eyes. Her fingers flexed and she pulled Cas closer. Her fear demanded attention. But Cas didn't have time to give it to her. His eyes moved sideways, away from hers.

She heard her name again, and it sounded warmer than ever. Shadows darkened everything for a moment. Her face was touched delicately by a hand so warm it made her shiver involuntarily.

"Hey," Dean breathed, leaning over. There was color to the world now, but it was still dark. She could just see the outline of his face and the slightest green tinge where his eyes were. "Hey, kiddo. What happened?"

"What's wrong with her, Cas?" Sam demanded on her other side. Anna couldn't turn, or she would have. She wanted to see them. Somehow she knew it was her last chance.

"What did that thing do to her?"

Castiel shook his head and leaned over her. "I don't know. But I may be able to find out. This shouldn't hurt," he encouraged. Anna couldn't care less. A little pain might have even been welcome. She just wanted to feel something other than the cold, tingling numbness that enveloped her. Cas settled his fingers against her left temple, and a warm glow began to emanate from them.

Anna had to close her eyes against the light that grew brighter. She couldn't feel the warmth or the change the way she usually could when Cas used his angel mojo on her to heal a wound or fly somewhere.

After a moment, Cas pulled his hand away. Anna could feel the hands gripping tightly to her arms, but her eyes slipped shut. The boys were here. All three of them. She could relax. She could... go.

"Anna, stay awake." His voice was urgent again, but Anna couldn't open her eyes. She didn't want to. It was so much work. The dark felt so good. It felt like nights spent on the Impala's hood under the blanket of the stars. It felt like going home.

"Hey, stay with us. Anna." Dean sounded even more stern than Cas had, and Anna had never been able to ignore that. But she couldn't get her eyes back open. She couldn't think the kind of fight it would take to stay with them this time. She was gonna be in so much trouble. "What's happening, Cas?" he demanded. She could hear panic. His voice was still warm but growing colder. Still close but increasingly distant.

"She's... fading."

"Fading?" Sam repeated beside her. "Fading how? Fix it. Heal her."

"I- I can't."

"Well, what the hell?" Dean shouted. "Do something. We can't just sit here. She's- What does that mean...?" he finally asked, his voice dropping low. Anna had never heard him sound so scared.

Her limbs grew heavier until she could feel the dirt beneath her against the bare skin of her arms. The tendrils of cold infiltrated every bit of her. Anna stopped looking for warmth. When her body shivered, it was nothing but reflex.

Something warm landed over her, cloaking her from neck to mid-thigh. Somebody's jacket. It didn't help.

"I don't know how or- or why," Cas admitted. "Her life, her energy- It's just... leaving. Ebbing away. I can't stop it."

"She's dying?"

Anna heard the anguish. She felt it.

"No," Sam's voice snapped beside her. Hands touched her face. They were cold. Cold like red noses on empty winter mornings. Cold like fear. "Anna, open your eyes," he ordered. Funny because Sam didn't give orders. "Now!" he shouted.

"You can't do this." Dean was forcing the words out through his teeth. She could hear the pressure, and it warred with fragility. "You can't give up, kiddo. That's not you." He paused. "Open your eyes."

Something deep inside of her reared at the very thought. _I can't give up_ , her mind echoed dumbly. _I don't give up_. But another voice, this one from outside, rumbled, "She isn't giving up. She has no choice. It's going to-"

"Don't say it, Cas," Sam commanded. "She's not dying."

"Sam-"

"Don't."

"Hey," Dean said, and it sounded like it was meant for her. Her body was shaken. It was quiet for a moment. Quiet like the second before an avalanche kills everyone on the mountain. "Can she hear us?" Dean asked.

There was a pause before Cas said, "Probably. But she won't be able to respond. It's surprising that she's survived this long."

"Hey," Dean breathed. He sounded as cold inside as she was. But his breath on her face was warm. "It's alright," he promised quietly. "It's alright."

"No," Sam choked.

Anna made a small sound in response to his anguish. She couldn't go. She couldn't hurt them. She could feel a hand twisting in the sleeve of her t-shirt. She'd sounded pitiful. But Sam's breathing sounded worse. He was practically keening.

"It's alright," Dean said again. She felt something warm on her face. Wet.

She thought she would make the sound again. There was incredible force behind the pain that hit her when she realized Dean was crying. Cold fingers wiped the warmth from her face.

"Don't worry 'bout us," he whispered. "Don't-" he broke off, and she could hear him breathing around a hole in his chest.

She felt the shift when Sam moved minutely closer. His hand moved from her sleeve to her neck. It found her pulse point. "It's okay," he murmured, his words even sloppier than Dean's had been.

Anna felt her eyes burning, the rest of her still so cold.

"Go to sleep, Sweetheart," Dean whispered.

A tear so warm she could hardly believe it was hers slid out from under her closed eyelids. It melted down the side of her face, and Sam's fingers touched gently against the trail it left.

"We'll be here when you wake up."

She felt her last breath whoosh into her lungs, and she felt it whoosh out.

She'd always expected death to hurt. To hurt loud. To be hot and angry like one last fight.

But Anna went quiet. Quiet like early morning when you wake before the world. She went numb. Numb like morphine lulling you to the pretty side of pain. She went cold. Cold like paling hands and blue lips. She went still. Still like the moment the doctor says _cancer_.

()()()

She woke with a shiver and rolled her head lazily to the side. Her eyes felt sticky and warm, like waking up from a dream that had you crying in your sleep. It took her a moment to get them open. The second her eyes adjusted to the light, she jerked away, scrambling to get her hands under her and get as far from what she'd seen as possible.

She stopped several feet away, her eyes slowly panning up to take in the full horror of the scene before her. Sam was sobbing, clutching a pale hand to his chest, his eyes almost completely shut as he lurched with the force of his pain.

Behind him, Cas stood, still as time. His face was drawn, his eyebrows knit close together. His mouth was turned down at both corners. But the worst part was his eyes.

Anna could feel his devastation when she looked at him. It was almost as strong as the force of the pain that struck her middle with every sound Sam made.

She hesitated before pulling her eyes from his face and daring to look left. Her face crumpled the second she saw Dean. He was pale, his face like stone, his eyes cold. His body language was all wrong. He looked small. Small like a dime in the cupholder. Small like Anna's hand in his when she was four years old, skipping down the sidewalk at his side.

Anna knew already what she would see when she finally looked down. She'd been the first one she laid eyes on when she woke. But she couldn't help the gasp when her eyes landed on her body again. Her hair was frizzy and flattened beneath her head and shoulders. Her face was paper white, her lips blue. There was no blood anywhere, no bruising. It didn't make sense. She was dead. And there was no explanation.

She flinched as she heard Sam choke her name. _Cas, get them outta here_ , she prayed. But the scene went on long enough to make her feel sick. She hadn't known ghosts could feel sick. She continued trying to pray to Castiel, hoping against all hope that he would be listening for her.

"The prayers of the dead don't reach anybody."

Anna spun around. Getting to her hands and knees, she looked up and tripped over another hurdle. "Billie," she breathed.

"That's right."

"You..." Anna struggled to compose herself. "You don't have better things to do?"

"Than reap a Winchester?" Billie smiled knowingly. "Not much can top that."

Anna looked at Billie, a soldier of Death, and finally felt the weight of her own loss. Her chin hit her chest, her eyes landing on her shoes. High tops. Not practical for the job, and it drove Dean crazy. But she was still a kid, and she _liked_ those shoes. Had liked them.

"Now?" she asked quietly. Her hands shook, but when she looked at them, they were almost transparent. There was irony somewhere in there. She'd asked Billie if she had to be reaped _now_ , but really... she'd already died.

Billie tilted her head back as Anna looked up at her with just her eyes, chin still low.

"Sorry," Anna said and shook her head. "I know how it works. Really. It's just..." She shook her head again, feeling a wreck. She covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath, but she had no body, and it did her no good. "What happened to me?" she asked, tilting her head up to look straight at Billie.

"Oh, I wish we had the time to dwell on it," Billie said, stepping around Anna so that she was between the dead girl and her grieving family.

Anna looked purposefully away, but her eyes flicked back to watch the fray anyway. It was painful, but she couldn't help but stare as Dean finally slid his arms under her limp legs and back. He stood unsteadily, holding her like something precious but resolutely looking anywhere but down at her.

"Unfortunately, as you can see," Billie continued, stepping fully out of Anna's way, "we're running out of time."

Anna frowned at that and looked again at her family. Cas was following closely behind Dean while Sam lagged. His hands were visibly shaking at his sides. Everyone was so pale. "What are you talking about?" she pressed, looking back at Billie. "They're gonna salt and burn me. I'll have no choice but to move on."

"Oh, Dear," Billie drawled, tilting her chin slightly down as she studied Anna. "You aren't really that naive."

It took another moment, but Anna's eyes widened in understanding. "No, they can't."

"Sam and Dean Winchester have bested the laws of mortality more than any other humans in the universe. And you..." She shook her head, looking grave. Anna's expression pinched tightly with concern as Billie walked a slow circle around her. "Did you know not even Dean died before twenty-one?"

Anna flinched away from the voice in her ear. "Dean died when he was twenty-one?" she breathed and stepped away from the reaper at her back.

Billie hummed what sounded like a yes, continuing to stare at Anna with interest. "The angels have been reviving those humans they deemed important for millennia. Lazarus wasn't anything more than a party trick."

Looking down at the ground, Anna's expression tightened with concern again. "Why don't I remember?"

"Think," Billie implored, letting the word rest between them a moment before she continued. "Anything with the power to give life-"

"-has the power to wipe a person's memory."

Billie raised one eyebrow but looked all around unimpressed. "Correct. Now let's go," she said, steadily impatient, and held out one hand.

Anna looked at it and felt terror rip through her. She stepped backward and wondered whether it would be so bad for her to hope the boys _could_ bring her back to life. The thought of going with Billie, being thrown into Hell, The Empty, Purgatory, or even Heaven... Anna couldn't bear it. She wasn't done yet. She couldn't leave her best friend or her girlfriend. She couldn't leave her brothers who had essentially raised her, who were basically her parents. She couldn't leave like this, especially without knowing what had done it to her and without an explanation for her loved ones to cling to. And there she had a perfect distraction.

"How'm I supposed to just go?" she asked, eyes burning. "I don't even know what happened. I don't remember why I'm here at all. Why wasn't I at home? Were we hunting something?"

Billie looked at her calculatingly. But she seemed to come to the conclusion Anna knew she would. Maybe Anna's questions were meant to stall, but they weren't a ruse, and neither were the tears. Billie gave a put-upon sigh. "You weren't meant to be hunting anything. But Sam and Dean were hunting a demon. Ancient. Evil. Case _you_ found."

Anna's eyebrows drew together again. She still couldn't remember what had happened, but she already got the feeling where this was going.

"You were it's M.O.," Billie said. "But, of course, you couldn't stay home, so you didn't mention its victims until you were in town. You were put under lockdown in a motel room. The angel friend was called in while the big, strong heroes went out for a noble battle. It got you anyway."

"With everyone there?" Anna shook her head. It didn't make sense.

"Castiel is just one angel. Middle of the ranks. Up against a big bad ancient force like that? He was no match. You should consider yourself your brothers killed it when they did. All the other girls died alone. And in pain."

"You reaped them?"

"No. But trust me."

Anna grimaced. "I can't go like this," she said. "My family..."

"Will be fine. I assure you. But first, you have to move on. Or they're wide open to get ahold of your soul and do something that nobody can take back."

"Let me see them," Anna requested.

Billie looked frustrated. "I told you. There isn't enough time."

"If I can talk them out of it-"

"Seeing you," Billie interrupted, losing patience. "Is only going to harden their resolve. Even now, the angel is trying to repair the damage done to your body. Your brothers are summoning a powerful demon. The Winchesters have sacrificed inexpressibly for perfect strangers. What do you think they would do for their baby sister, not yet out of high school?"

"Anything," Anna whispered, terrified inside and out. She felt cold again, but she was bodiless. So the sensation seemed to consume her rather than finding its place in her fingertips or toes. It curled around her, bubbled in the air, hissed in her ear.

She looked down at herself then back at Billie. She didn't want to go. But she didn't want her family to get hurt trying to save her. She didn't want the world getting damaged for her. She'd always dreamed that one day, she would be a hunter as worthy of admiration as her family. But she wasn't there yet. For now, she wasn't anybody. She couldn't let the world or even her family come apart at the seams for her.

"Okay," she said shakily, eyes filling with tears. She wanted to be brave, but she was dying, and she simply hadn't seen that coming today. The boys were right. She was reckless because she felt invincible. "I'm ready. Do it fast, okay? So you can tell them it didn't hurt."

Billie looked almost pleased as she stepped forward and took Anna's hand in hers. "I'll tell them."

"Billie."

The voice made them both turn, their hands falling away from each other. Anna's eyes widened as she saw Chuck standing there, looking right at her. He'd been AWOL since things ended with Amara, and they'd come to believe that he was gone for good again, this time with his sister instead of alone.

"Chuck," she breathed.

"Playing favorites," Billie said, tilting her head and gritting her teeth at Chuck. "That isn't like you." Her sarcasm only made Chuck smile all-knowingly.

"One last time," he said apologetically. "She's got so much more life to live."

Billie narrowed her eyes at him, but she disappeared just a few seconds later.

Anna was being hit by another wave of total shock. "I don't understand," she stammered, staring at Chuck in awe. "You left again. I thought-"

"They always think I'm gone for good. I needed a vacation," he explained. "And I'm heading back. But you're just... you're not done, Anna."

"I'm... not done?"

"You're not done," Chuck replied easily. "You've barely started. I've got more waiting for you, kid."

"So, what you're saying is, God has a plan for me."

"There's that smart-assery," Chuck said with a lame smile. "Put it however you like," he said. "You won't remember this conversation anyway. But let's just say... Orationes ad Deum audit de defunctis."

Anna pulled her head back to look at him with wide, appreciative eyes. "God hears the prayers of the dead," she whispered back the translation.

Chuck smiled slowly at her, then winked. She noticed his hand move in her peripheral vision, and there was the sound of fingers snapping and a bright light. Then there was nothing. Then there was everything.

()()()

She was choking and seeing and hearing and smelling and _feeling_ again all in one second. There were sheets beneath her, scratchy and uncomfortable but real and there. There was an itch in her throat and a pain in her lungs every time she took a breath, but she was breathing again. Ahead of her, there were yellow and orange walls, decor that didn't match at all, and three shocked faces coming closer at incredible speeds. In her ears, her name was spoken again and again, warm. There was sweat and gunsmoke in her nostrils a second later, and there were hands on her, arms around her, voices still chattering in her ear, saying her name again and again interspersed with things like _Thank God_ and _You're alright_ and _Breathe_.

When her body reached an equilibrium, Anna blinked a few times and suddenly felt like the world had righted itself for her.

Cas stood to her right behind Dean, who was sitting on the bed beside her. On her other side sat Sam. Both boys looked pale, and they were clutching her between them in a sandwich of a hug that was warm but oddly tight and desperate. She didn't understand what could have possibly happened to make them act like this. Especially since she was physically fine. She didn't feel any more pain, and she could breathe just fine now.

"What... happened?" She struggled to get the words out while she was being crushed between her brothers, but the strain in her voice was enough to get them to release her. They both kept hands on her, though, Dean's on her head and Sam's on her shoulder.

"Sorry," they said together.

"You really don't- don't remember?" Sam asked, his fingers curling in the fabric of her t-shirt at her shoulder. Anna got the hint that the movement was subconscious, because he was looking her in the eyes, and she could see the effort he was making to look like he was fine.

"Remember what?" she asked. "Did that thing grab me or something?"

"Or something," Dean mumbled, but he didn't sound light-hearted enough to be joking.

A leaden weight dropped into Anna's stomach, and heat spread from her stomach to her face. "What happened?" she asked, more intent on getting an answer this time. Cas stepped into her direct line of sight, and she looked up at him, eyes at once vulnerable and demanding the truth at any cost. "We were here, Cas. Talking. That's it. The rest is blank. What the hell happened?"

"It was the daemon," Cas explained in a somber tone. "It got the drop on us."

"We were on its trail," Sam continued. "But it circled back somehow, got around us. We didn't even realize until..."

"Its power is old. Beyond old. It's ancient. I was..." Cas looked down in shame. "I was powerless to stop it when it came for you."

Anna frowned, struggling to understand. She was fine, so why did he look so distraught? Why was Sam's hand winding tighter in her sleeve? Why was Dean's face going blank like he was shutting down?

"We knew something was wrong when Cas found us," Sam said softly. "We started looking for you, and it was like we all knew. Like there was something in the air." She could hear the hesitation when his breath caught, could see what he wasn't saying just by looking in his eyes. _It was the scariest thing_. "That thing showed up, and Dean and I stayed back to kill it, but Cas ran and he- he-"

"I found you," Cas said. "But you were barely alive."

Sam's hand spasmed against her shoulder, gripping harder. "But I'm fine," Anna said. "Whatever it is, you fixed it. Right?"

"That's a good question," Dean said and cleared his throat. "We don't know what brought you back."

"Brought me-" Anna's face, lined with confusion, relaxed into an expression of pure shock. "I died," she realized. "I died?"

Nobody spoke, and that was answer enough.

It stayed quiet, because there were no words that could help anything. Anna sat and looked at each of the boys in turn.

Dean wasn't looking at her. His eyes were closed off, and Anna could just imagine what he might be thinking. She was fine now, but she knew Dean took everything bad that happened to her or Sam as a personal failure. She was sure he had buckets of guilt resting on his shoulders, however unnecessary she thought that was.

Sam was staring at her, making promises with his eyes that she knew he wouldn't be able to keep. He had guilt too. Guilt that was just like Dean's but also different in a million ways. His hand moved from her left shoulder to her right one, and he pulled her against him again for another hug. Anna rested her head against his shoulder and looked up.

Cas' blue eyes were fixed on her as well, but he was apologizing through them. Anna tried to tell him he had nothing to apologize for, but she didn't have the energy to speak. Instead she gave him a sliver of an encouraging smile, and Castiel set his hand on her shin.

Anna breathed deep and wondered how she'd never realized what a gift the pounding of her own heart was. Dean's hand on her hair moved, and he kissed the top of her head. She looked at him and reached over to grab his hand. Nobody would be able to take his guilt away, but she had to give him _something_. Make him feel better _somehow_.

The room was packed with pain, each of them bleeding unchecked into the air. Something inevitable but excruciating had happened to this family today. But Anna felt remarkably okay. She had no memory to accompany the knowledge of what had happened, and she counted herself lucky for that. It was probably the only reason she didn't feel shaken to the core the way everyone else seemed to.

All she could think was how warm the room was. Sam was warm. Dean was warm. Cas' hand was warm against her leg. And she was warm. Warm from her heart to the tips of her fingers. Warm like sand on the beach in July. Warm like that first cup of coffee on a winter morning. Warm like movie nights, sitting snug between the boys on the couch. Warm like home. Warm like family.

_la fin_


End file.
